16. Santino #2
My plans die when I remember that I’m taking her to my home where my son is—where Luca is. He’ll have to understand. I should have talked to him before kidnapping her, as she puts it.
He’ll get over it. But what about her?
She most likely doesn’t feel the same about me as I do her. I wouldn’t blame her. I’m twice her age and I’m sure her plan had something to do with my son cheating on her. The reason behind her motivation is obvious. I still want to hear it from her.
Soft music plays through the speakers, filling the car with some type of noise to invade the tension. Jovie stares out of the window, arms crossed, and if it weren’t for the tears reflecting on her cheeks, I would think she hates me.
Far from it.
Tears mean she is hurting, she’s in pain, and I know, in some way, somehow, her agony has to do with me.
I check my phone, scroll through texts and emails, pretending to be busy when the only thing I can think about Jovie being so close.
I finally have her where I want her and yet, she’s too far away for me to reach.
I stare at the woman I’ve fallen in love with. If I’m honest, I fell in love with her when we met for the very first time. It’s terrible, isn’t? Knowing my son was dating the woman I knew I was destined to be with.
Hopefully, he takes the news well. And if he doesn’t, I’ll manage.
Fifteen minutes of torturous silence comes to a brief halt when the car comes to a stop in front of the large iron gates. Sam presses a button on the dash, and the privacy gate swings open, revealing a long-paved driveway leading to ‘my manor’ as Jovie called it.
This house was constructed with old stones and vines that creep up the sides. I wanted something that reminded me of the UK when I vacationed there. I fell in love with the scenery and did my best to bring it to life here for my home.
“Wow,” Jovie gushes, her voice breaking the silence. “Oh my God, look at all of the flowers!”
I tuck my phone in my pocket. “What else did you expect?”
She cuts her gaze to me, the joy fleeing them. “Maybe a graveyard.”
I lean forward, setting my elbows on my knees. “Who says it’s not?”
There isn’t a dead body on my property. I’m not that much of a fool. My dead bodies are always disposed of. She doesn’t need to know that though. If she wants to fear me, I’ll give her every reason to.
Jovie’s eyes round, darting from me to the expansive yard that’s maintained by my trusted gardeners.
“Being a florist, I would think you would know how wonderful decomposition is for the soil.”
“Decomposing bodies can also be bad for plant life. The surge of acidity can kill the plants or even release bacteria or get in the water if it isn’t maintained correctly. They can nourish soil over time, but not immediately,” she corrects me, crossing her arms in defiance as she stares me down.
“Smart and beautiful,” I praise, leaning back against the seat. “You caught me,” I sigh dramatically. “There are no dead bodies here. You can sleep well knowing that.”
“Sleep well?” She scoffs. “I have a feeling I won’t be sleeping at all. Not when I’m held prisoner.”
“Prisoner?” The car comes to a stop in front of the house, the tires crunching over pebbles. “You’re a guest here. I want you to make yourself at home.”
“At home? With a man who wants to kill me? Yeah, I’ll be sure to settle right in.”
I grip her chin, rubbing my thumb over her plump bottom lip. Jovie’s breath catches, her cheeks pinkening. “Sarcasm sounds pretty against your tongue, but I better warn you—” I lean forward until I’m so close, my breath can be felt on her lips. “—Next time, I’ll fill your mouth.”
The back door opens, giving me the perfect opportunity to leave her confused as to why she’s here. I turn to step out of the car and stop, wanting to give her some peace of mind.
“Jovie?” I turn my chin to my shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would think you would know that by now, given everything.” Stepping out of the car, I inhale the fresh air, the sweet scent of fresh flowers blooming and newly cut grass easing my anxiety.
I hold out my hand for Jovie to help her out of the car, but she steps out on her own, ignoring me.
That’s too bad.
I take her hand in mind, gripping it so tight, she is unable to escape my grasp.
“Let me go,” she demands through clenched teeth, trying to yank herself out of my hold.
“Never.”
Terrance swings open the front door. “Sir. Madame,” he greets with a small bow.
“Terrance, where are my sons?” I ask, the door closing behind us with a loud echo.
Jovie studies the lobby in awe, staring up at the polished chandelier and matching twin staircases on either side of the room. The room is painted in dark emerald, green, the tile floors black and white marble with gold leaf grout.
In the middle of the room, on an antique coffee table, is the last of the bouquets Jovie sent me.
“Omar is staying at the apartment you have on the west side near the docs. There is word that Bianchi is trying to build new docks there to expand transport.”
“That’s against the agreement,” I snarl.
“That’s all Omar heard. He is going to stay there for a few days to gather information. He is safe. He has a team with him. Luca is with him.”
“The two are together? That should be interesting. We’ll be in my bedroom. Under no circumstances are we to be interrupted. Someone better be dying if you have to.”
“Yes, Sir.” Terrance steps to the side, folding his hands in front of himself and looks forward, a statue of professionalism.
It’s why he is about to get a promotion.
“You’re good at your job, Terrance. Keep up the great work.”
His mouth opens in surprise before he rights himself. “Thank you, Sir.” He swallows. “I appreciate that.”
I don’t go out of my way to compliment my staff, but I want to. If they know they are appreciated, then they will be more loyal to me. I can’t give my men any reason to turn their backs on me and go to Bianchi.
Strolling to the staircase, I tug Jovie behind me, and of course, she fights me every step of the way. So feisty. Learning that about her only has me fall in love with her more.
“Let me go!” She demands again, doing her best to yank from my hold.
We’re almost at the top of the steps when I sling her around and press her against the wall, pinning her hand above her head that I refuse to let go of.
I bombard her space, pressing my body against hers. I drag my fingers up the soft skin of her arm, her eyes dropping to my lips.
“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear, Jovie.
I’m not going to let you go. Stop asking.
It isn’t going to happen. Follow me into the bedroom where we can talk.
If we talk and we both decide that being near one another is a bad idea, then so be it.
Not until I get you alone.” I bend down, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. “Do I make myself clear?”
She smells so good. I close my eyes, breathing her in, wanting her scent to embed into my DNA.
Lilies. My favorite.
Her hands push against my chest, shoving me backwards. She isn’t strong enough to move me. I step back anyway, wanting to give her the space she needs.
“Crystal,” she replies with a curl of her lip.
Without saying another word, I drag her down the hallway, passing expensive pieces of art lining walls that are probably worth more than any amount of money Jovie has ever seen.
Stopping at the door, I press my thumb against the scanner, and it swing open automatically.
My space is boring in comparison to what she’s probably used to.
My room is large, yet empty. So much more could be in here.
Love fills a space. Love for more than a job or children.
Love for something personal, a hobby, for example.
I don’t have one. I’ve spent so many years working that I’ve lost track of what I like or enjoy doing.
That doesn’t matter. That doesn’t make money.
But it would bring happiness, a rarity that perhaps I’m not allowed to indulge in.
I shrug off my blazer and fold it in half, hanging it over the back of a chair near my closet. The motion-censored lights come on, illuminating the empty, yet clean space. Jovie stands awkwardly against the wall, twisting her fingers together in nerves.
Unbuttoning my cufflinks, I set them inside the jewelry box and roll up my sleeves to my elbows.
“Tell me, Jovie. Was this all a joke? Was I the joke?” I finally break the silence, getting to the matter at hand.
“A joke? No, it as never a joke.”
I turn around, giving her my full attention. “Am I supposed to believe that? I’m not a stupid man, Jovie. Once I figured out it was you who was messaging me?—”
“—How? How did you find out? I covered all of my tracks,” she argues. “Well, not all of them. I used my personal phone number. Is that how you found me?”
“Your messenger boy. You forgot that people love to talk when their lives are threatened.” I make my way to the minibar settled on the other side of the room. I pour myself a glass of whiskey. “Would you like a drink?”
“No thank you. I’d rather be in my right mind when it comes to a man like you,” she says.
“A man like me?”
“Did you hurt him?” She whispers, glancing down at the floor with teary eyes.
I chuckle, placing the decanter back on the shelf. “No, I didn’t hurt him. You must have heard so many stories about me to believe I’d hurt a courier.”
I would. But I wouldn’t hurt anyone if it meant hurting her.
Her shoulders drop with relief. “Oh, good.”
“I did break down his door, but I left him very much alive. He gave you up very easily, by the way.”
“I would hope so!” She raises her voice. “No one deserves to die over a few bucks when it comes to flowers.”
I down my scotch, the burn in my throat and the warmth in my stomach easing my temper. “I will kill whoever I need to even when it comes to something as simple as flowers. I’ve killed for a lot less.” I step forward.